


Conversations at the End of the World

by yourcrookedheart



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Canon Universe, F/F, Romance, working through some issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-25 18:46:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12538732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourcrookedheart/pseuds/yourcrookedheart
Summary: Faith's attitude was still prickly, her humor still sharp and on the edge of mean, but there was something almost… subdued about her. Softer, in-between the sharp corners. Willow was unsure whether it was Angel’s influence, or jail, or just Faith herself committing to the redemption act, but it was about as surprising as it was welcome.Willow and Faith find ways to connect in the lead-up to the battle with The First.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The fic follows the events of s7 and only diverges from canon when it comes to the Willow/Faith relationship, so warnings and spoilers for everything that happens in those last few eps.
> 
> Major thanks to ExistentialMalaises, as always.

The night was dark, only the moon lighting the way. Together with the front lights of the car it was barely enough for Willow to see a few feet of road in front of her.

“Can’t you magic something to light the way? Floating fairy lights of some other witchy crap?” Faith asked, not unkindly, after about half an hour of Willow squinting over the wheel. She had agreed to accompany Willow on her trip back to Sunnydale, and wary as Willow was, Faith did seem to be sticking to the redemption thing. Besides, it wasn’t like Willow was in a position to judge these days.

Willow kept her eyes in front of her. “I don’t know if anyone caught you up on the going-ons in Sunnydale after you got out of jail, but I’m steering clear of magic for a bit. Bad experience.”

“What, spell went wrong and someone got a cat tail?”

“I tried to end the world.”

Faith whistled. “No kidding. Well, welcome to the club of those with questionable morals.” 

“That’s what Wesley said.” 

That got Willow a few chuckles. “It’s exclusive. More fun than the Buffy Association of Moral Superiority.” 

“Comes with free jail time?” Willow asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing over at Faith. 

“Jail had its charms.” Faith cocked her head as if considering. “Wouldn’t recommend it though. Bit of a drag.” 

“I’ll try to remember that.” 

Willow narrowly avoided a possum, swerving the car into the other lane. Tried to calm her racing heartbeat. Something about the dark woods was creeping her out; the way the branches looked like claws, half obscuring the moon.

“Want me to take over?” Faith asked, glancing at Willow’s white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Her voice was tinged with something approaching concern, or at least the Faith version of it. Willow just shook her head in response, and considered this new Faith, who was softly humming along to the rock ballad playing over the stereo. She was dressed similarly to how Willow remembered her, only with less pleather. The dark denim jacket achieved roughly the same effect, though; a general don’t-fuck-with-me vibe — unless Faith wanted you to fuck with her. Her attitude was still prickly, her humor still sharp and on the edge of mean, but there was something almost… subdued about her. Softer, in-between the sharp corners. Willow was unsure whether it was Angel’s influence, or jail, or just Faith herself committing to the redemption act, but it was about as surprising as it was welcome. 

Maybe Faith was exactly what they needed in Sunnydale, a breath of fresh air to give them all a bit more hope, kick them back in gear and smooth the tensions between what had become a fractured army over the past few weeks. Willow remembered Buffy’s terse replies when she’d called her earlier to ask her about bringing Faith in. Well, maybe not, then. At least, if anything, Faith’s Slayer abilities would give them a new advantage. 

The car that had been driving in front of them for the last few miles into Sunnydale suddenly lurched, and Willow watched in horror as a body fell out of the passenger’s seat, landing on the road, unmoving. The tires of her own car squealed as she brought it to a sudden halt, already running out to the motionless form without waiting to see if Faith was following her. A girl, no more than 20, bleeding from a head wound. Willow’s trembling hand took a while to find her pulse, faint but steady. 

“We have to get her to the hospital.” Willow started lifting her, until Faith knelt next to them and took her from Willow’s arms, carrying her easily. She called out when Willow moved back behind the wheel. 

“You watch the girl, I’ll take the wheel. Your shitty driving’s gonna get us all killed before we even get to the hospital.” 

Faith would be an important asset in the fight against the First Evil, Willow told herself, as she counted to ten and heaved herself over into the passenger’s seat.

 

*

 

“How’s the girl?” 

Faith had been put in Joyce’s old bedroom, the one Willow was now sharing with Dawn, Anya and half a dozen Potentials whose names Willow pretended to remember. She was sitting on the duvet, going through an old photo album that must’ve been in one of the drawers, the three Summers women smiling in front of a vacation cottage. 

“She’s improving. Said she was attacked by a priest,” Willow replied. 

“Evil priests. Never a dull day in Sunnydale, huh?” 

“Aren’t you glad you came back now?” 

“Sure am.” Faith’s cheerful sing-a-song tone was accompanied by a wide smile, as if she was advertising a particularly delicious brand of breakfast cereal. She dropped it at Willow’s snort. 

“Since I’ve been here, which, for the record, hasn’t even been 12 hours, people have tried to kill me, threatened to kill me, glared at me as if they wanted to kill me and… oh, ignored me.” Faith listed these on her fingers. “Well,” she amended, “Spike was nice.” 

“Spike was _nice_?” 

“Yeah. We bonded over being evil, and then he said he’d slept with Buffy, which, damn, I’m gonna need that full story someday soon, and then B showed up acting all pissy that I was talking to her boyfriend or something.” 

“He’s not her boyfriend,” Willow corrected. 

“Yeah, anyway. What the hell happened while I was away? You guys miss the excitement and decided to start your own drama?” Faith pushed the photo album aside and leaned back on her elbows, which had the result of pushing her chest forward, the tight red tank top flattering her curves in all the right ways. Willow wondered if the pose was intentional. 

“Eyes are up here, sweetheart.” 

Well, that answered her question, she supposed. 

“Riley left,” Willow started, settling on the edge of the bed, next to Faith. “And then Buffy died. So we brought her back. Then Giles left, and then Xander and Anya got engaged, but he left her at the altar. And then Buffy and Spike were sleeping together, except we didn’t really know about that. And I went evil.” 

“Damn.” 

“Oh, and Dawn’s technically not real.” Faith’s disbelieving frown was almost comical. “Well, kinda. It’s a long story, she’s a mystical key and all of our memories from before she was 15 were all made up by a bunch of monks…” Willow trailed off. “Yeah, long story.” 

“No shit.” Faith laughed incredulously. “And I thought Angel’s life was dramatic.” 

Willow shrugged. “Joyce died, a few years ago. Not sure if you’ve heard that. Then Tara died.” 

Faith’s expression grew serious. “Damn, sorry. I liked her. Joyce and Tara, I mean. Well, I didn’t really know Tara but she seemed — nice,” she finished, a little awkwardly. 

“She was. It’s — why I went evil. Mostly. I killed the guy who shot her.” 

“Good for you.” 

“Not really the general sentiment around here.” 

“I bet.” 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, staring into space, lost in their own thoughts. Willow glanced at Faith and wondered what she was thinking, if inner Faith was gleefully doing the Macarena at the mess they’d all made of their lives, or if her regret when Willow had told her about Joyce and Tara had been genuine. It had seemed genuine, Willow decided. And maybe Faith deserved the benefit of the doubt, for now. 

Willow’s stomach grumbled, and she grinned sheepishly when Faith looked up. “I’m starving, you want to see if the others have left something for us to eat?”

 “Can I tell those kids downstairs terrifying stories about prison?” Faith asked eagerly.

 “No.” 

“Oh, you guys are no fun.”

 

*

 

The door slammed behind Faith, leaving a room of wide-eyed teen girls and long-suffering adults. And a furious Buffy, glaring at the now closed door as if she could set fire to Faith despite the walls separating them and through sheer power of will. 

“I just fixed that door,” Xander whined. 

Giles rolled his eyes and turned to Buffy. “You could’ve handled that better, don’t you think?” 

“She started it!” 

“She just made a joke,” one brave Potential piped up, cowering into the couch when Buffy turned her glare on the girl. 

“Well I don’t find jokes about ‘giving up on a lost cause and joining the evil priest’ very funny, considering the circumstances. And weren’t _you-_ ” this directed at Giles, who’d crossed his arms in front of his chest, “saying we need to be more serious?” 

“Maybe we should all just count to ten and try again after dinner.” Willow’s suggestion was ignored, and the argument continued. 

It had been like this for months, but things had escalated ever since Faith had returned. The mounting tension and despair at not knowing how to beat the big evil this time was affecting morale, and Willow was unsure how to fix things. Because if they couldn’t even go one collective meal without it ending in a fight, how were they ever supposed to get it together long enough to save the world? They’d roped Faith into this battle as reinforcement, but it was slowly becoming apparent that that plan was only more fuel to the fire. And things were decidedly chilly when it came to the topic of Spike, after the whole attempted-murder debacle less than two days earlier — something Willow herself had only found out about through Kennedy, who had overheard Buffy talking about it to Dawn. The danger loomed ahead, and they all scrambled for solutions - solutions that weren’t coming. And so Faith provoked, and Buffy reacted, and Giles argued and Willow placated, and then they all showed up for a repeat performance the next day. 

Willow sighed and headed towards the kitchen, brushing off Kennedy’s questioning gaze. Faith wasn’t there; the kitchen was messy but otherwise empty and entirely Slayer-free. The garden, then. 

She found Faith on the back porch, leaning against the wall. She was smoking a cigarette, the fumes crinkling into the air, catching the light from the overhead lantern. Her eyes were closed, and she didn’t react when Willow shut the back door behind her, even though she must’ve heard the noise. Instead she just kept on smoking, head tilted towards the stars she wasn’t watching, chest rising and falling with each inhale of nicotine. 

“Does that actually relax you, or is it just for aesthetic purposes,” Willow asked, her eyes trained on the little glowing ember at the end of the cigarette. 

Faith’s lips curled up into a lazy smile, but she didn’t open her eyes or turn towards Willow. “Takes the edge off. Gives my hands something to do.” 

“Kills your lungs slowly but surely?” Willow raised an eyebrow even though she knew Faith couldn’t see it. 

“Slayer healing, baby.” Faith took another long drag. 

“Is that based on scientific studies or-?” 

“God.” Faith huffed out a laugh, tilting her head to finally acknowledge Willow with her gaze. “I thought going evil was supposed to make you more fun.” 

“I must’ve missed the memo,” Willow said testily. 

Faith rolled her eyes. “Lighten up, Elphaba. I didn’t mean it like that.” She nodded towards the house. “They still going at it?” 

“Probably.”

A grin, and no response. 

“You could just try to be nicer, you know.” 

“I try.” Faith shrugged at Willow’s doubtful look. “I do. You’d all be arguing whether I was there or not.” 

And that was… probably true, Willow had to admit. They seemed to be doing a good enough job starting fires themselves, with or without Faith’s barbed jabs to fan the flames. 

“Buffy’s under a lot of pressure,” she tried again. 

“Yeah, aren’t we all?” 

“That’s different.” 

“Different how? ‘Cause she’s the good guy?” 

“We’re all good guys.” 

Faith huffed out a laugh and lifted one black boot to rest against the wall. “Yeah.” 

“Most of us, anyway. Spike might take offense,” Willow admitted. 

“Spike would let people call him Mother Teresa if it meant Buffy would love him.” 

Willow couldn’t quite suppress her snort. 

Faith continued. “Buffy’s just… Buffy, you know? She’s always gonna be that hero type, blonde hair blowing in the wind, saving the world with a smile.” There was a hint of bitterness in her tone, but it was mixed with something else. Willow would’ve called it admiration, if it wasn’t Faith they were talking about. 

“Not everything comes easy to Buffy.” 

“No,” Faith agreed, “but she’s Good.” The capital letter was audible. “That comes easy to her. Every day I wake up and I remember how much easier it was not to give a fuck. To just — waltz through life, not caring about whether what I was doing was moral, or righteous, or if it would get me an approval stamp from Jesus or Buffy Summers.” 

“The hardest thing in this world isn’t to live in it, it’s to live in it and remain good.” Willow said, and Faith snorted. 

“Yeah, only without the fortune cookie lines.” She took one last drag of her cigarette and pitched it into the grass in front of her feet, crushing it with the tip of her boot. “I don’t want to go back to who I was. I don’t ever want to be that girl again. Sometimes, though… shit, sometimes I’m just exhausted by all of the rules that come with this morality stuff.” 

Willow let the silence stretch for a moment before picking up the conversation again. “Buffy just struggles with other things, I guess.” 

“You guess?” 

“We don’t talk — much, at the moment.” Much. Ever. Same difference. 

Faith let that comment slide. “I never got that, how Buffy could just… be that selfless, without it being an act. Like she was some kind of saint or something. I mean, those girls inside, most of ‘em wouldn’t have become anything significant. They wouldn’t all have become firefighters, or human-rights lawyers, or charity CEOs. They’re just regular girls who got saddled with superpowers.” She paused. “Buffy isn’t like that. She’s different, you know?” 

This time there was no mistaking the admiring tone in Faith’s voice. Willow had always thought Faith’s fixation on Buffy had been just a bit… well, a bit homoerotic. The lingering looks, the stalker behavior. Buffy seemed to attract those types in general, but no one did it with the style and rebel grace of Faith - for all Spike tried. She’d never really considered Faith’s feelings in all that though, or how it would’ve affected her actions. Buffy was easy to fall in love with, Willow figured. That didn’t mean it was easy to be in love with Buffy. 

Faith was on a roll now. “And I could tell she was different, from the beginning. Everything I ever did since I came to Sunnydale; Trying to be good so Buffy would like me, being evil so Buffy would hate me. Going after her or her boyfriends so she’d be forced to meet me, fight me, remember me. Everything I did… It was always about Buffy.” Faith groaned. “Like I’m one of her pathetic vampire puppies. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.” 

“You secretly want fortune cookie advice?” Willow suggested. 

Faith laughed, for once not bitterly or accompanied by a mocking grin, but genuine and surprisingly loud. “Yeah, alright, I want your fortune cookie advice.” 

“Well, as my favorite fortune cookie always used to say… Hard work pays off in the future, laziness pays off now.” 

“Good one.” 

Willow twisted her body so her shoulder was leaning against the wall and she could watch Faith without having to turn her neck. “How about this one? Don’t chase people who don’t love you back.” 

Faith was silent for so long, Willow thought the conversation was over and she’d walk off any minute now. When she finally spoke, she wasn’t looking at Willow. “You’re just full of keen observations tonight, aren’t you?” 

“That’s me, fortune cookie girl.”

Faith huffed out a laugh and shook her head. Her hands fidgeted with her jacket, as if she missed the cigarette and now didn’t know what to do with herself. “Oh, whatever,” she breathed, tilting her head back. “Yeah, alright, you got me. I’ve got a big lesbo crush on Miss Righteous.” 

And score one for Willow’s gaydar. She should’ve made that bet with Dawn — if that hadn’t been totally unethical and wrong. Willow nudged Faith with her shoulder, hard enough that Faith had to stabilize herself with both feet. “Look at you, talking about your feelings like a well-adjusted person.” 

“And if you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.” 

“There’s the Faith I know.” Faith just kept on watching the stars, and Willow leaned back to open the door to a crack. The shouting seemed to have stopped, only Anya and Andrew arguing over the stove. “Wanna head back inside?” she offered. “I think they’ve calmed down.” 

Faith shook her head. “I’m good, gonna smoke one more.” She fished out a cigarette and lighter from out of her tight jeans. 

“Think on my brilliant advice?” 

“You know it,” Faith winked, and lit the cigarette.


	2. Chapter 2

“So we’re really doing that, huh? Walking straight into the bad guy’s lair.”

“It might not be the best idea-”

“No, it’s a terrible idea.” Faith crossed her arms and rounded on Willow. “And I bet you all told Buffy the same thing when you had your little gathering.”

They had, actually, told Buffy the same thing. Xander, desperately trying to reason with her, Giles, exasperated and not contributing anything to actually changing Buffy’s mind, and Willow, hesitantly attempting to reconcile all of them. To no avail. So yes, they were walking straight into the evil priest’s lair. And yes, it was probably a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad plan. But it was also the only plan they had, and if one of their main assets wasn’t on board, it was doomed to fail before they’d even started.

“We reached a consensus,” Willow said. Faith barked out a laugh. “And it doesn’t matter. Not right now. They’re preparing for a mission downstairs, and we need you to be in on this.”

“When I said I was like one of Buffy’s vampire lemmings, I didn’t mean that literally. I don’t blindly agree with whatever she says, and I definitely don’t follow her orders when they’re for moronic plans like this one.”

“Fine, then. _I_ need you.”

Faith stopped her pacing to stare at Willow.

“I’m staying here at the house, watching the rest of the Potentials with Giles. You’re right, I do have a bad feeling about this,” Willow admitted. “Which is why I need you to be there, on guard.”

“Wow, one talk about feelings and you trust me over your best friend?”

“ _Temporarily_. You still rank below most of the people in this house, and a few outside of it.”

“You know how to flatter a girl.” Faith batted her eyes.

The joke, of course, was that Willow did trust Faith. Crazy Faith who’d tortured people and tried to kill at least half of Willow’s friends, and who’d spent the last few years in jail. But also, Faith who’d been understanding when Willow had talked about killing Warren, who’d opened up about her feelings just yesterday. This new Faith, mellowed just enough for her jabs to be funny rather than hurtful, was, surprisingly, someone Willow could trust.

“Fine.” Faith rolled her eyes. “I’ll walk into the death trap. But only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

And maybe that trust ran both ways. Willow sure could use some of that right now.

“So why aren’t you tagging along again?” Faith asked. “Are you actually protecting the whelps or do they just not trust you with the magic.”

“ _I_ don’t trust me with the magic,” Willow replied. She shifted under Faith’s studying gaze. “It’s not a big deal, I’m more useful here.”

“What, so I bare my soul to you but I get nothing in return?” Faith asked indignantly. Which was fair, Willow supposed, except Faith wasn’t exactly her first pick for therapy sessions under the best of circumstances. But Faith seemed genuinely upset, even if she was trying to play it off as a joke, and maybe Willow did owe her, just a little.

“Play nice tonight, and if we all survive this-” Willow sighed, “we’ll talk.”

“Heart to heart? Paint our nails and have pillow fights in sexy lingerie?”

Willow raised her eyebrows, trying to suppress the image of Faith in some lacy black number.

“Hey, all my knowledge about slumber parties comes from TV,” Faith shrugged.

“You mean from late night adult channels featuring lesbian porn?”

Faith’s mouth curled at the corners into an inviting grin. “You keep wondering about that.” She took a breath and brushed a hand through her hair, straightening her shoulders, and suddenly the easy-going, joking Faith was gone, replaced by the professional Slayer, the one who dusted vampires and cut off demons’ heads and took on evil priests. Like this, Faith looked - dangerous. Not a surprise, considering her past, but somehow jarring after the easy atmosphere from a few seconds ago. Faith headed towards the door.

“Be careful, alright.” Willow said, after debating it for a few moments.

She got a raised eyebrow in return for her efforts. “Yeah, I got that.”

“No, I meant — You, be careful. We don’t know who this guy is or what he can do. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m touched.” Faith raised her hand to her chest. “Do I get a good luck kiss, or is that one reserved for the Slayer-socialite downstairs?”

“Don’t push it,” Willow pointed her finger towards Faith warningly, who allowed a small grin to slip past her cool facade as she pulled the door shut behind her.

 

*

 

Willow leaned her head against the kitchen cupboard and closed her eyes. Her shoulders and back ached from being folded into an uncomfortable chair all of yesterday night and today, and her stomach was clamoring for a proper meal. Hospital food really was the worst, especially when over half of the kitchen staff had apparently decided to finally ditch their helltown. She leaned back enough to open the cupboard for a glass, filled it with tap water. Her hands were trembling, either from exhaustion, hunger or agitation. All three, probably. She downed the drink in one swallow and leaned forward onto her hands, dropping her head between her hunched shoulders. Yep, still hurt. And she could really use something stronger than water right now. They’d thrown out all of the alcohol when the Potentials started arriving, but surely someone in this house was keeping booze stashed away.

The fridge didn’t seem to have anything that looked both edible and vaguely nourishing. When was the last time they’d gone out for stocking up on supplies? Willow massaged her shoulder and tried the freezer. Pizza and some frozen vegetables — bought in an idealistic attempt to cook healthier. The pizza would do.

She cursed under her breath as her clumsy trembling fingers struggled to open the cold box. From the living room she could hear the steady murmur of an overcrowded house, familiar after all these weeks. No one yelling, for once. For Xander’s benefit, most likely. How long would that detente last? An hour, maybe two?

A cautious knock had her looking up at Faith, lounging against the door post. Willow didn’t know how long Faith had been standing there watching her, with that indecipherable expression on her face, while Willow was lost in thought. Long enough to see past the composed appearance Willow had put up earlier for the others.

“Please don’t say ‘I told you so’,” Willow spoke into the silence.

Faith’s eyes widened in what seemed to be genuine offense. “I wasn’t going to.” She walked over to Willow and leaned against the kitchen counter across from her. “I was saving it for Buffy,” she admitted sullenly. She grabbed the pizza box from behind Willow and deftly opened it, put it into the microwave. Any other day, Willow would have argued about putting pizza in the microwave instead of heating it in the oven like an actual adult. Not today.

“I wasn’t gonna ask, ‘cause I hate when people do that shit to me, but… are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Willow looked into Faith’s concerned eyes. “No.”

Faith hopped onto the kitchen counter. “Spill. You’ve got four minutes until the pizza’s done, and about ten until everyone gets tired of walking around on eggshells and starts fighting again.”

It was a little unexpected how comforting Faith’s straightforward, blunt attitude was. Maybe it was just the fact that someone _had_ asked, cared enough to wonder how Willow was holding up. She wasn’t going to fall apart, couldn’t, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to. The edge of exhaustion that she saw on Buffy, Xander, Giles, even Anya, was one she recognized. Holding on, but barely, stumbling forward because it was the only option, and if they weren’t going to, then who was?

“I don’t know how many more people I can lose,” Willow sighed. “I was trying not to think about it, after — Tara. But now…” She trailed off, unsure of how to put her thoughts into words.

“Xander’s fine. Well, minus the depth perception bit, but y’know.”

“Dianne isn’t fine. Molly isn’t fine. And Xander could’ve died, for _what_?”

Faith stilled the leg that was tapping a steady beat against the counter. “We all made the choice to fight in this battle.”

“Those girls out there are kids.” Willow remembered the hollow-eyed, slack-jawed look on Chloe’s face as they discovered her lifeless body, hanging from the ceiling.

“ _We_ were kids,” Faith said. “It’s what we do. Can’t have a war without casualties.”

“But I don’t want to be left!” Willow exclaimed, lowering her voice at the thought of the others overhearing. “If I have to die to win this war, then so be it, but I can’t keep watching as the people I love die or get hurt.” She scrubbed her face, tried to regulate her breathing.

“I’m sorry to say it, but I think you picked the wrong town and the wrong group of friends in that case. And right now, we’re all that’s standing in-between an ancient evil, a super-powered priest and an army of what must be ugliest vampires I’ve ever come across. We’re it.”

And Willow knew that. It was exactly what she’d said to Xander yesterday, before the fight with Caleb. But there was a ravine of a difference between yesterday, when they’d been preparing for a plan that would most likely fail, and today, after the plan had failed and landed Xander in the hospital, as well as cost them the lives of two teenage girls.

“You were right, you know,” Willow admitted. “It was a bad plan, and we didn’t do enough to dissuade Buffy and now people are dead and Xander got hurt and we learned absolutely nothing useful.”

Faith hopped off the counter at the ping of the microwave and rummaged in the drawer for a knife. “I’m still not gonna say ‘I told you so’.” She cut the pizza into parts, efficiently wielding the knife. A little too forcefully, but Willow wasn’t about to comment on that. Her hair fell forward, obscuring the angry-looking bruises that covered her jaw and temple.

“Those still haven’t healed?” Willow asked as she accepted a slice of scalding pizza and blew on it.

“Huh? Oh, these?” Faith lightly brushed her jaw and smiled sardonically. “These are more recent, courtesy of our favorite commander in chief.” She took a bite and winced, fanning her mouth. “Shit — that’s hot. Anyway, no, got jumped by some crazy cops earlier. Then B showed up and she, uh, finished the job.”

Willow raised an eyebrow and took a cautionary bite of her own. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not.”  

She didn’t pry. Whatever had happened tonight between Buffy and Faith, Willow had run out of things to care about, and she really was famished. The pizza tasted stale and rubbery and yet somehow the hunger tricked her into thinking it was delicious. Faith allowed her to eat most of it as she silently chewed on her single slice, seemingly content to sit there, hiding away in the kitchen with Willow. How come Faith was suddenly one of the people Willow was spending the most time with? There was Xander, of course, and Dawn. Kennedy, who seemed just a little over-eager and who Willow was gently trying to disentangle from. But in the absence of Buffy, Faith had joined the ranks of people Willow trusted with her honest thoughts. Strange, and yet. Faith was prickly, sure, but whatever had separated them all those years back, that seemingly unbridgeable gap, it didn’t seem all that remote now. Bridged by a redemption on one side and a fall from grace on the other, and apparently that meant they could meet in the middle somewhere. At least, it meant they had something in common.

Willow finished the last slice of pizza and licked tomato sauce off her fingers, pleased to note her traitorous hands were no longer trembling. When she looked up, Faith was staring at her index finger in her mouth, seemingly unconscious of what she was doing. Willow cleared her throat, and Faith startled, met Willow’s eyes for a second before her gaze slid to the window. It might have been the lighting, but Willow thought she could see a hint of a blush on Faith’s cheeks.

Well, two things in common.

“You wanna brave the big meeting?” Willow asked, suppressing the small smile that was threatening to take over her face.

Faith groaned.

“You’ll be able to lecture Buffy on her leadership,” she added.

Faith’s gloomy expression was exchanged for a broad grin. “You always know how to make my day.”

 

*

 

Lecturing Buffy on her leadership went about as well as Willow had expected — which was to say it went absolutely terrible.

Still, she’d expected terrible to mean something like, they’d all yell at each other for a bit and then devise a new plan, leave the tensions to be solved another day. What she hadn’t expected was for things to escalate to the point where Buffy would be abdicated and asked to leave the house. Willow saw her own guilt mirrored on a couple of the faces around her; Faith, Dawn, Giles. The girls, including Kennedy and Anya, just looked validated, if a little shaken. Xander looked vacant.

Yet no one seemed able to move, either to go after her or to figure out where to go from here. No one, apparently, but Faith. They all watched in silence as she got up to follow Buffy outside. It was an awed silence, filled with disbelief at the situation. Had things really gone so wrong that they couldn’t even work together to defeat a common enemy? Sure, they’d been fighting — a lot. But they’d always fought, and they’d always been able to set that aside when it truly mattered. Now, it seemed, even an apocalypse couldn’t smooth the tensions.

Through the window, Willow could see Buffy heading out to the street while Faith remained on the porch for a few moments longer, before turning back towards the house. She entered in silence.

“We should—” Giles cleared his throat. “We should convene about Faith’s new leadership.”

Faith raised her hands, palms forward. “Hey, I never asked to run this suicide mission you guys got going on.”

“But we voted for you,” Rona said, looking around at the other girls for agreement. A few of them nodded. “You agreed that Buffy was awful.”

“I never said—”

“Maybe we should do this tomorrow,” Xander interjected. This seemed to settle the discussion, as Dawn trudged upstairs, shoulders hunched, and some of the girls started whispering amongst themselves. Willow watched Faith shrug off Robin’s hand and head towards the stairs as well.

Willow’s knock on the empty bedroom door was greeted with silence, which she brushed off. Surely they’d progressed far enough into their apprehensive friendship that they could barge in on each other.

Faith was reclined on the bed, leaning against the headboard. She looked up, then huffed out an almost imperceptible, amused breath when she saw it was Willow.

“That could’ve gone better,” Willow said, trivially, to start up a conversation more than anything. Faith’s raised eyebrow indicated she’d figured out Willow’s intentions, but she seemed to be willing to let it slide and play along.

“Understatement of the century.” Faith sighed. “Those girls don’t know what they’re doing, asking me to lead.”

“Well, in their defense, they didn’t know you a few years ago.”

“Thanks,” Faith replied in a deadpan tone.

Willow perched on the edge of the bed, leaning her back against Faith’s raised knees. “What did Buffy say?”

“Wished us good luck with the apocalypse before peacing out.”

“You don’t feel guilty?” Willow herself could feel the shame eating away at her, a bundle of tense nerves knotting in her stomach every time she remembered she was in Buffy’s house, fighting Buffy’s Slayer cause. Only without Buffy, because of them — because of Willow.

Faith drew her brows together. “With the way B was going, things were bound to blow up.” She paused at the look on Willow’s face. “ _You_ feel guilty.”

“How could I not?” Willow exclaimed. “I turned on my best friend.”

“You weren’t the only one.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“I know.” Faith nudged Willow with her knee. “Didn’t mean it like that, alright?”

“You spend a lot of time criticizing Buffy for having a crush on her,” Willow needled.

“Thought we agreed not to talk about that.”

“Oh, no, we’re talking about it.”

Faith grimaced like she’d bitten into a particularly sour lemon. “Just ‘cause I dug her once upon a time doesn’t mean she can’t get on every one of my nerves.” She shook her head at Willow’s disbelieving stare. “Whatever. Don’t you have a girlfriend to be making out with?”

“She’s not—”

Faith raised an eyebrow.

“She’s not,” Willow repeated. “We had a — a thing going on, but it wasn’t, you know. A _thing_.”

“A thing that wasn’t a thing.” Faith nodded thoughtfully.

“Oh you know what I mean. Speaking of things—”

“No.”

“—How’s your thing with Robin?”

“No thing.”

Willow grinned. “You know when you repeat a word so often that it sounds all weird and loses its meaning?”

“I’m not dating Robin,” Faith said. “He’s a friend. I have those now — comes with the whole redemption arc.”

“But I’m your best friend, right?” Willow faked a pout and widened her eyes at Faith, who rolled her eyes, her mouth twitching into a smile.

“My very best.”

A tiny fissure ran up Willow’s spine at the teasing in that gravelly tone. She’d noticed Faith was attractive — of course she had. And she’d appreciated Faith’s company over the past few days, more than she could have anticipated when she’d ran into her in L.A. This was a different kind of awareness, though. This was what she’d felt had been missing with Kennedy, why she’d ended things between them. That fluttering of nerves deep inside, that warm glow spreading along her skin when she talked to Faith.

Willow realized she’d been staring at Faith for some time now. More importantly, though, she realized Faith had been staring back. Something flickered in Faith’s gaze. Apprehension mixed with... interest? A week ago, that would’ve surprised Willow. Now, after the talks they’d had, after having had the remarkable honor of seeing Faith stripped bare of her tough-gal mask, it suddenly didn’t seem all that odd that Faith might be interested.

Still, there was something intimidating about the thought of wild, unpredictable Faith focusing her attentions on Willow.

Willow shifted on the mattress so she was closer to the headboard, facing Faith. “So, let me know if I’m interpreting this loaded silence the wrong way—”

A smile tugged at the corner of Faith’s mouth as she looked up at Willow from underneath her lashes, coy yet with hints of apprehensiveness. “You’re not.”

“Oh. Good. I mean — great!”

Neither of them made a move, and the silence stretched between them, charged with brittle tension. Like being suspended on a rope, high up in the air, where any movement from either of them would mean fracturing the balance.

Faith’s hand fidgeted with the edge of the comforter. “I’ve uh— I’ve never done this.” Her head was turned to the side so that the moonlight coming from the window outlined her features, drawing sharp lines across her bruised cheekbones and nose. The shadows elongated her lashes towards her cheeks. Faith had always been beautiful, even when they’d been in high school, when Willow still thought she was straight. All that leather and devil-may-care attitude, dark-red lips twisted into a smirk that was equal parts invitation and warning, hips swaying to the bass line of some band at the Bronze. But that Faith had belonged to Buffy, and then, surprisingly, to Xander. Never Willow, who didn’t yet know all of the things she wanted, like girls with soft lips and sloping curves. Back then, Faith had seemed adult, sensual and experienced. And now, through one of the universe’s innumerable slants, Willow was the experienced one.

“It’s okay.” Willow reached out to cover Faith’s restless hand. “It’s not that different from a guy, really.”

Faith looked up with a glare. “I’m no blushing virgin either.”

Like a light switch, really. Willow gave up on trying to read Faith’s mood and pulled at her hand until Faith was forced to lean in. She was under no illusions of their respective physical strengths; Faith was letting Willow manhandle her, docile and willing at least for the time being, and that was somehow sexier than whatever Willow would’ve expected from this moment.

Willow raised an eyebrow. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Kissing Faith was nothing like Willow had imagined — and she had, over the course of the past week, in-between trying to defeat a major evil and mitigating the troops. It was a little like attempting a difficult spell for the first time, crackling energy and electric sparks, the high-strung tension of uncertainty, and the euphoric rush of success. Faith was no blushing virgin, and whatever worries she had about inexperience, she caught on quickly. One hand reached up to tangle in Willow’s hair, tugging at it — just shy of being painful, while the other hand skated over Willow’s arm and side, stopping short of her hip each time as if Faith needed permission to cross that boundary. She was half-draped over Willow, a warm and solid weight pressing her further into the mattress.

Willow matched her eagerness step-for-step. She’d kissed Kennedy, a couple of times, and that had been nice. Comforting. Nothing about Faith’s kisses was comforting, unless you considered lightning storms soothing. Willow purposefully slowed down the kiss as she nipped at Faith’s bottom lip.

“Okay?” she breathed into Faith’s mouth, leaning back a little to assess her.

Faith made a noise of protest and pulled Willow closer again. “’M fine.”

Willow grinned into the kiss and trailed her lips across Faith’s jaw, neck, collarbone, ran her teeth along the skin and smoothed it with soft licks. She was rewarded with an impatient huff as Faith shifted and straddled her hips, leaning most of her weight on the hands bracketing Willow. Her shirt had ridden up a little, revealing her toned stomach and hipbones, and Willow couldn’t help but reach out to trail her fingers along the exposed skin.

“You gonna keep on teasing?” Faith asked, rolling her hips and smirking as Willow rolled her head back, pleasure skating along her skin.

Willow considered for a moment the appropriateness of having sex with a team member after the week they’d had. It wasn’t entirely kosher, but— Faith grabbed Willow’s hand and put it high up on her thigh. Well, maybe they deserved a little relaxation time. Willow reached for Faith until they were flush against each other, pressed together chest to thighs, then rolled them so she was the one straddling Faith. Lying underneath her, dark hair fanned across the pillow, flushed and breathing heavily, Faith looked gorgeous.

Willow grinned and traced Faith’s lips with her thumb. “Don’t you always say the teasing’s the fun part?”


	3. Chapter 3

Willow made her way through the aisle of the bus to the back, where Faith was holding up the edge of her torn shirt to prod at a dark-purple angry-looking bruise on her rib. She didn’t look up as Willow dropped herself into the seat next to her, only winced a little as she straightened.

“They got you good huh?” Willow said.

Faith shrugged. “Not as bad as some of the others.”

She wasn’t wrong. At least Faith was alive. Unlike Anya, and Amanda, and Nadja, and Lynn, and Spike; more victims claimed by the Sunnydale Hellmouth. At least it was only bruises marring her skin, some fractured ribs that would heal in a week or so thanks to Slayer strength.

And at least the Sunnydale Hellmouth had made its last kills.

They’d won, technically, but the mood in the bus was somber. Exhaustion painted purple bags underneath people’s eyes, and no one seemed to be eager to talk, either to discuss what had happened or to make plans for the future. Willow wasn’t even sure where they were headed. Away, was all they’d agreed upon, and that was enough for now.

She watched Faith’s reflection in the window. They’d barely talked since the night they’d kissed for the first time, when they’d had sex, once and then again, until Caridad came knocking on the door, telling them to cut it out or move it to a different room, because ‘some people wanted to sleep’. They’d laughed, giddy of desire and sweet escapism.

Then Faith had led a mission that had ended up costing them three girls.

Then Buffy had returned, to lead them into a final battle against The First.

And now they were here, on a rusty old school bus, driving away from the town that had been Willow’s home since she was born, until today when they’d blown it up.

Faith caught Willow’s eye in the window and let her shirt drop. “You want to talk, don’t you? Discuss our feelings?”

It was as if the past few weeks hadn’t happened, as if Faith had never opened up to Willow at all. Her shield was back up, like a prickly carapace, and Willow didn’t know how she’d managed to ever break through it at all.

“We don’t have to. We could just sit here in awkward silence,” Willow replied.

Faith rolled her eyes. “Sounds like fun.” She raised her legs to rest her bent knees against the seat in front of her, causing Andrew to turn around to glare at her. Faith just grinned.

“I didn’t think it was gonna work, you know,” Willow said, despite Faith’s reticence. “Right until I did the spell, I thought it’d fail. I don’t know what we would’ve done if it had.”

“Died, probably.”

“Ever the optimist.”

“You know me,” Faith said, putting on a fake-cheery smile that she dropped at Willow’s look.

Willow turned to Faith and raised one leg up on her seat, so she could address her properly.

“So, that night was, what? Experimentation? Scratching your bicurious itch?” She could see Andrew shifting in the seat in front of them, clearly eavesdropping on their conversation, and she lowered her voice. “I thought we were — connecting.”

“You think I was using you?”

Willow shrugged.

“No really, you think I’d do that? To you?” She shook her head and stared out of the window. “I don’t wanna be your rebound, okay. I bet Kennedy’s offer still stands.”

“Rebound.” Willow rested her head against the seat, wishing Faith would look at her again. “You’re not a rebound, Faith.” She sighed when Faith didn’t acknowledge her. “I’m not saying it’s — love or anything. I still miss her. Tara. I can’t — won’t lie to you about that.”

Faith gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head, as if telling Willow to continue.

“But I like you. Talking to you — It meant a lot to me, that you listened.”

“Me too,” Faith said, finally turning to look at Willow again. She huffed out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know how to do this. Talking about this... feelings shit.”

The typical Faith eloquence made Willow smile. “You were doing a good job earlier.”

“So, what, we — date?” Faith asked. There was a faint trace of nerves in her otherwise nonchalant tone that was surprisingly endearing.

“If you want to.”

Faith’s shoulders dropped out of their tense hunch, and her mouth curled into a hesitant smile. “Yeah. Let’s try that.”

Andrew, who up until now had remained silent with only his ear turned casually towards them, suddenly turned around with a gleaming smile. “You guys—”

Faith held up her hand, index finger raised in warning and giving new meaning to the phrase ‘if looks could kill’. “Don’t.”

Andrew deflated a little, but didn’t relinquish his smile as he turned back to the front. Faith glared at the back of his head.

“Are you hoping he’ll catch fire?” Willow whispered. She leaned in, conspiratorially. It brought their heads closer together, and when Faith turned to look at her they were close enough that Willow could see the smudges of dirt that still clung to Faith’s cheek and forehead. Close enough to note the darkness underneath her eyes, and the cuts along her jaw and temples. But also close enough to recognize the warmth in her chestnut brown eyes, framed by lashes that under the right circumstances could probably prove to be just as deadly as the stakes their owner wielded.

Willow reached out to brush off the dirt, and Faith raised an eyebrow at her. The desert stretched out beyond the window behind them, vast and seemingly limitless. Kennedy had described it as desolate, earlier, but it didn’t seem that way to Willow now. It reminded her of those Western pulp novels her dad hid in his bedside cabinet, in which the desert wasn’t desolate, but signified freedom, and potential, and new beginnings.

Willow felt Faith’s hand land on her arm. While she was trading in metaphors — Faith reminded her a little of the cacti that dotted the landscape, thorny and with a strange beauty. Willow didn’t know if this relationship was doomed from the start. Between the two of them they had enough issues to fill a week of _Dr. Phil_ episodes. But Faith’s thumb was softly dragging along the skin of her arm and Willow felt oddly hopeful, so she shifted until her head rested on Faith’s shoulder, and watched the infinite landscape glide by.


End file.
